“Of course, of course,” said the landlord, hovering near. He turned to a servant. “Fetch some brandy for the sister. Take her into the parlor, sir.”
Stephano carried Gythe into a room off the main lobby and laid her gently on a couch.
“Thank you for coming to our aid, Monsieur,” said Miri.
Stephano bowed. “My pleasure, Sister. I happened to be here myself on business. Do you require my assistance for anything else?”
Miri assured Stephano that he was no longer needed. He turned to the landlord, who was hovering over the young and very beautiful nun, asking if she would like something to eat and shouting once more for the brandy.
“I came to see Monsieur Dubois,” Stephano said, interrupting. “What room is he in?”
“What? Who? Oh, room number 6,” said the distracted landlord.
Grinning, Stephano dashed up the stairs. He moved swiftly, treading softly. Entering the hall, he found the door with a brass number 6 nailed to it at the top of the stairs. Stephano gently tried the door handle and found it locked. He rapped on the door smartly.
“Who is it?” a mild voice called.
“Your dinner, sir,” said Stephano in servile tones.
He heard the shuffling of papers, footsteps, then the key turning. The moment Stephano heard the lock click, he kicked open the door and jumped inside, his pistol drawn and aimed at Dubois.
Stephano came to an abrupt halt. Dubois stood with his pistol aimed at Stephano. The two men faced off, each with a pistol aimed at the other.
Dubois suddenly recognized his assailant.
“Captain de Guichen!” Dubois exclaimed and raised his weapon, pointing the gun at the ceiling. Unfortunately, due to amazement or perhaps out of nervousness, Dubois inadvertently squeezed the trigger. The gun went off, blowing a hole in the plaster.
At the sound of the gunshot, cries and shouts came from below. The landlord was demanding to know what the devil was going on, and Miri was crying out that Sister Catherine had fainted once again. Stephano waved away the smoke, all the while keeping his pistol aimed at Dubois. Miri could be counted on to deal with the landlord.
“What is the meaning of this armed invasion, Captain de Guichen?” Dubois demanded with indignation.
“You can cancel your plans to kidnap Alcazar today, Monsieur,” said Stephano in pleasant tones. “Be so good as to inform your master.”
“Kidnap! Alcazar!” Dubois gasped. “My ‘master,’ as you refer to His Eminence, Captain, is trying to rescue Alcazar, not kidnap him.”
Stephano gestured with the pistol. “Interesting story. Too bad I don’t believe it. Come along with me, Monsieur Dubois, and we’ll sort all-”
He was interrupted by a scream from below and Miri’s we’re-caught-in-a-raging-storm-and-the-mast-is-falling bellow. “Stephano! Company!”
Footsteps pounded up the stairs.
“You bastard,” muttered Stephano, eyeing Dubois. “That shot you fired wasn’t an accident. It was a signal!”
Stephano turned halfway, just as a man with red hair and beard plummeted through the door and seized hold of his arm, trying to wrest the pistol from his hand. Stephano’s pistol went off. Dubois gave a cry and clapped his hand over his shoulder and staggered backward.
Red Dog knocked Stephano to the floor and tried to get his hands around Stephano’s throat. Miri entered the room to find the two men wrestling and rolling about. She grabbed hold of a chair and smashed it over Red Dog’s head. He groaned and rolled off Stephano, who heaved himself to his feet. Miri bashed Red Dog in the head with the chair’s leg. He went down and did not get up.
Below, the landlord was out in the street, blowing a whistle, summoning the constables. More footfalls sounded on the stairs. Stephano motioned for Miri to wait behind the door with the chair leg, ready to bash whoever came in. Stephano hurried over to Dubois, who had collapsed into a chair. He was still conscious, his hand pressed against right shoulder. Blood welled out from beneath his fingers.
Stephano gave the wound a cursory examination. “You’ll live. The bullet took out a hunk of meat, that’s all. On your feet. We need to get out of here. I’m sure you don’t want to deal with the police any more than I do.”
Dubois didn’t budge. “Left pocket.”
“There’s no time-” Stephano began.
“Look in my left pocket, Captain,” said Dubois sternly, indicating with a nod the coat he was wearing.
Stephano glared at him, then, thinking Dubois might have some sort of document that would placate the authorities, Stephano reached into Dubois’ coat.
“The leather case,” Dubois instructed. Lifting his left arm slightly to allow Stephano access, he gasped in pain and kept pressure on the wound. Stephano was drawing out the case, when Dag came running into the room, his musket in his hands.
“Stephano, I heard about Miri-” he cried, just as Miri emerged from behind the door, brandishing the chair leg.
“What are you doing here?” Dag gasped, goggling at Miri.
“What are you doing here?” Miri demanded.
Doctor Ellington didn’t wait to find out what anyone was doing here. The cat leaped off Dag’s shoulder and made a run for the stairs. Gythe, coming in behind Dag, reached down and deftly scooped up the fleeing Doctor before he shot out the door.
“Oh, my God,” Stephano groaned.
He had been reading the document he had just removed from the leather billfold. He looked from Dag to Miri to Red Dog, who was rubbing his head and staring around groggily, to Dubois, bleeding on the sofa.
“What’s gone wrong now?” Miri demanded in dire tones.
“This man… uh… works for the Church. He’s Grand Bishop Montagne’s agent.” Stephano heaved a sigh and ran his hand through his hair.
“You just shot an agent for the grand bishop?” Miri cried, scandalized.
“I didn’t mean to!” said Stephano.
Gythe frowned, touching her lips and making a face as though tasting something bad.
“Maybe he’s lying,” Miri translated.
“Read the paper on the desk,” Dubois instructed. He closed his eyes and bit his lip against the pain.
“Gythe,” said Stephano, “keep watch.”
Gythe and the Doctor went over to the window, while Miri hurried to examine the document.
“It’s from the grand bishop,” said Miri. “The document instructs the archbishop and Lord Mayor of Westfirth to close the harbor. It’s signed and sealed…”
Her brow furrowed. “But if this man, Dubois, is working for the bishop, then why did Russo tell us that Dubois was working for Sir Henry Wallace?”
“Wallace!” Dubois cried, his eyes opening. He sat up in the chair. “What about Wallace?”
Stephano didn’t answer. He was staring at Dag, suddenly realizing amidst the confusion that the mercenary was in the room.
“Dag, what are you doing here?” Stephano demanded.
“Russo told me Miri and Gythe had been kidnapped,” Dag said wretchedly. “He told me you needed help…”
His voice trailed off.
“Where’s Rigo?” Stephano asked tensely.
“He didn’t come with me,” said Dag. “He didn’t want me to leave. He must have known… Oh, God, Stephano! Now I know where I’ve seen that Russo before! I kept thinking he looked familiar. At the ambush at Bitter End! He was the man in the greatcoat… I saved his goddamn life!”
“And Father Jacob told us that man was Henry Wallace. So this Russo is really Sir Henry Wallace and now Wallace has hold of Alcazar and Rodrigo,” said Stephano.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Dag miserably, “That bastard fooled me completely.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” said Stephano. “He fooled all of us.”
Gythe, standing at the window, snapped her fingers to draw their attention. She pointed down at the street and made a gesture with her hands intimating the tall hats worn by the constables.
“I think I’ll just let them arrest me,” said Stephano. “They can charge me with being an idiot. I’ll plead guilty.”